Mirror, Mirror
by Rosie-Chan
Summary: Tezuka, a college student, finds himself drawn into a world of demons when he meets and falls for the handsome and mysterious Fuji Syusuke--who happens to be a succubus. Perfect Pair
1. Chapter 1

This is a collaboration with Feyren. Our styles are so alike that we thought we should start this, and this is an attempt to get her off my back about publishing here. She and I will be alternating between Fuji's point of view and Tezuka's point of view if we continue. There will be other pairings too (she is an utter Dirty Pair fan), but later, not now.

* * *

In a small shop, all the way to the side of Tokyo, the side nobody remembers or thinks to visit, there is a room. In that room, there are mirrors. An infinite amount of mirrors, mirrors as far as the eye can see. And it's strange, for though the shop is small, the room is large. One could walk for miles and not reach the other end. Only select humans can visit the room—chosen by demons themselves.

That's not to say the room is ever empty. The room has mirrors, and the mirrors each contain another room. The rooms contain demons, beautiful, handsome, delicate demons, trained to woo since the moment they were born—pardon, since the moment they were created, for they aren't just demons.

They're succubae.

_Succubus: A demon who takes the form of a highly attractive being to seduce men, to take their souls and capture them, torture them for their own entertainment._

What a dark definition. Although, he did define it himself.

Fuji Syusuke smiles to himself. It is a Monday morning, just another Monday morning. He can barely remember how many years it has been at this point, but he doesn't mind. He likes Monday mornings. They're fresh starts, a new week—in this case, the start of a new era.

He sits alone in a room, arms folded, leaning toward the mirror. The room is empty, the shop is empty, but Fuji knows it won't be that way for long. A blue haired male emerges from quiet shadows, silent shadows, shadows that know better than to speak. He smiles an eerily familiar smile: It is familiar, perhaps, because it was taken from Fuji himself.

"You're very pleasant this morning," Yukimura Seiichi murmurs, moving to stand beside him. "Is there an occasion today?"

Fuji widens his smile, a perfect Cheshire cat grin, perfected from decades, from centuries of practice. "You could say so."

"What's the pretty boy so happy about?" another boy demands, and folds his arms.

"You're a pretty boy yourself," Fuji replies easily. "Good morning, Gakuto. Where's Shishido this morning?"

"Being bitchy," Gakuto replies calmly. "Being very, very bitchy. I think he's upset cause that boy toy of his didn't show up yesterday."

"The mirror shop was closed," Fuji pointed out.

"The boy's got a temper," Kirihara responds, coming out of nowhere and plopping down next to them.

"You're younger than him," Yukimura reprimands, but strokes his hair fondly. "Be polite."

"Don't wanna."

Yukimura chuckles at the stubbornness. "Akaya, Akaya. What shall we do with you?" He frowns to everyone else. "It's almost the new year. I'm afraid of what'll happen to him—he's still young, you know. It's unfair that he should be subjected to something so crude."

A younger boy, one with a brilliant set of golden eyes and a permanent smirk, approaches them. "Why are you all gathered around the mirror? What are you talking about?"

Fuji envelops him in a hug. "Ryo-chan," he coos, and Ryoma shoves him off awkwardly.

"Stop it, Fuji-nii," he protests. "Yuuta-nii will be back soon, so hold off your brotherly urges for two hours, won't you?"

"Yuuta," Fuji sighs. "He will have to suffer the same fate, eventually." Niou appears, now, and murmurs agreement. Fuji isn't surprised by his sudden appearance, but casts him a rapid smile over his shoulder.

"_What _are you talking about?" Kirihara demands.

The older boys glance at one another—it isn't an uneasy glance, just a glance, but at this point, Kirihara, and Ryoma have learned to read such looks. "They're worried about the new year," Ryoma realized. "Kiri-nii, you're going to be old enough next year."

Kirihara pales. "I am."

Yukimura pulls him into a fierce embrace. "They won't hurt you," he promises. "We've taught you well. We deal the damage. Just remember to never get emotionally attached to any of them, and you'll be fine."

"I know," he says, but his voice wavers considerably.

The familiar sound of a bell rings in their ears, and they approach the mirror to see who has entered. Fuji stands closest, making sure to keep himself invisible, as do the rest of the succubae.

_We're succubae, all of us, _Fuji thinks, and casts a brief glance toward those around him. He feels unnaturally proud of them, even the brats of the group: He loves them all alike.

A boy with a handsome face, dark blonde hair, and oval glasses enters the shop. The store owner is a shady man, always dressed in black. He is the only one aware of the presence of demons, but he doesn't mind.

He created them, after all, did he not?

"Good morning, young man," the store owner greets. "Can I help you today?"

"I need to buy a mirror," the boy says carefully. He searches for his wallet, then looks up, startled. "I—I'm sorry, I'm afraid I left my wallet in my locker."

"Take the mirror," the store owner insists. "It's fine. You seem like the type of boy who keeps his promises." There's a hint of menace in the way he says it, but it's so faint that Fuji doubts the boy notices it.

"No, I'll get the money first," the boy says firmly.

"Then we'll have the mirror ready for you when you return from school," the store owner says cheerfully. "Go on. What's your name, lad?"

The boy hesitates, and for a quick moment, his eyes are fixated on the mirror, that special mirror, the one Fuji and Yukimura and Mukahi and everybody else is trapped in. For a moment, he thinks he can see a tint of cerulean, the faint color of brown, a petite, venomous smile, but he blinks and it is gone. "My name…" He falters. "My name is Tezuka Kunimitsu," he says at last. He bows for good measure, and leaves quickly.

Yukimura is the only one to notice Fuji's dark smile. "It seems you have a new toy," he breaths, and Fuji nods slowly.

"It seems I do," he replies. He smiles fondly at Kirihara and Ryoma, and says, "I will set a good example for you two, and for Yuuta." His smile widens, faintly revealing white, sharp teeth. "This one seems like fun."

* * *

Tezuka is unable to think clearly. He knows, he _knows _he saw a face in that mirror, he swears he did. It was a beautiful face, ethereally beautiful. It couldn't have been his own, and it wasn't the shop keeper's. The eyes, they stared at him, a wonderfully mesmerizing ashy blue. Periwinkle, cerulean, turquoise, robin's egg—none of those colors could match that shade, that strange, exotic shade. It ought to have been a color in itself.

He is unable to think clearly, and all he wants to do is run back to the shop, stare at that mirror, stare it into infinity if it means he'll be carted off to an insane asylum.

_What's gotten into me_? he wonders.

The teacher asks him a question, and he finds himself unable to answer. Sanada and Oshitari each cast him a surprised glance. He ignores them.

The first half of the school day passes much too slowly. He sits on a park bench, relieved to be away from prying eyes—prying eyes that weren't a strange, exotic shade of blue—and then Sanada and Oshitari approach him, each frowning seriously.

"What's gotten into you?" Oshitari says first, echoing Tezuka's own thoughts, though he couldn't possible have known. "That was a ridiculously easy question, especially for you."

Sanada says nothing but his lips are downturned. He folds his arms, and Tezuka notes absentmindedly that it's difficult to take him seriously when he's wearing a cap.

Atobe Keigo pushes them both aside. "What's this ore-sama hears, Tezuka?" he asks, voice haughty. His eyes are blue, a grayish blue, but they're not that strange mix of robin's egg, turquoise, periwinkle, cerulean. "Have you been slacking off in class?"

Tezuka stands, thoroughly irritated though unwilling to show it. "I haven't. Is it not possible to have an off-day?"

"Not for you."

"It would appear that it is possible for you," Tezuka replies calmly. "You may have noticed that your layers are uneven today."

His words achieve the desired effect and instantly Atobe panics, searching for a mirror in his designer bag. He checks frantically and finally notes that one of the flippy, upturned sides of his hair is higher than the other. He pulls out a comb and sets to work. Sanada gives him an exasperated glance. Oshitari doesn't bother.

The rest of the day passes even more slowly. There are a few more missed questions, a considerable increase in questioning glances, and a considerable amount of questions, mostly from Atobe himself. Tezuka would have found it amusing that half of the questions had to do with his hair, but he is thinking about returning to the mirror shop, and is thus apathetic toward everything else.

He doesn't even drop off his things when he rushes to the shop, only to find that it is empty, and the shopkeeper has disappeared.

But the door is unlocked.

Ought he to enter?

Through the glass doors, he can _swear _he sees those strange blue eyes. _Just a glance, _he tells himself. _I can't afford to be distracted. I have college, work, my internship—I mustn't be distracted, and this will quell any curiosity I have. _

He opens the doors, and enters the room, all the way in the back. The room that seems strangely full, yet oddly empty. It is a paradox, but he doesn't move.

The mirror looks old. Its frame is a tarnished silver, and the mirror seems dusty, about to crack at any moment. He is afraid to touch it, and hopes he won't have to. He doesn't know what he'd do if it were to break. Something tells him it's dangerous, to be so attached to something he isn't sure is existent, but in that moment, his sanity runs away with his logic, and he chooses to stay.

He peers into the mirror, searching for blue, just a hint of blue. He sees nothing but shadows.

"Boo."

Tezuka does not scream or shout, but he does take a startled step back.

The face, the eyes, the hair—it's all there. In the mirror, there is a boy. He has a wraithlike beauty to him, an otherworldly quality in his eyes. His face is pale but his lips are red, and his eyes are open, wide open. "Have I frightened you, Tezuka-sama?" His voice is gentle, is delicate and sweet like a thousand roses, a thousand doves, and does not match the atmosphere of the shop.

Tezuka does not speak, for he knows he will stammer. Once he is certain he has regained his voice, he replies, slowly, steadily, "Who are you?"

"My, so rude." The figure puts a hand to his lips in a mocking gesture of shock. "And you seemed like such a darling boy when I first saw you."

"I wish to know who you are," he says, trying to keep his voice from cracking. What's happening? Who is this? What…?

"Are you enamored with me already, Tezuka-sama?" The figure looks up at him eagerly. He stretches out a hand, and to Tezuka's amazement, it goes past the glass. It's a pale, white hand, and it's three dimensional, stretching out from the mirror. It's tangible, palpable, and he wants to reach out to it, but he doesn't.

The shopkeeper enters the store, then. "Young man? Is that you?"

Tezuka backs away from the mirror and approaches the shopkeeper. "I'm sorry," he begins. "I was…"

The shopkeeper shrugs it off. "It's okay," he says, his voice still bright, too bright compared to the dark mood of the shop, but Tezuka doesn't think about it, doesn't notice it.

Is the shop haunted?

It seems like the only possibility, but it can't be, because the boy didn't seem like a ghost. No, that was the wrong way to put it… He seemed supernatural, seemed wraithlike, but not _dead_. He didn't seem dead, for how could anyone with such eyes ever seem dead?

"Do you want your mirror?" the shopkeeper asks, holding out a small mirror. "This is the one you were looking for, right?"

"It's perfect," he says politely, and gives him the money.

The store owner laughs and hands it back. "Keep it! It's on the house," he says. "You seem like a special kid."

"I couldn't," he starts, and turns away for a quick moment to put the mirror in his school bag. When he turns around to hand the money back, the store owner is gone.

_Do I leave the money on his desk? What if someone steals it? I…_

"Keep the money," a voice breathes in his ear. It is the sound of roses, the sound of doves, the sound of danger. "We have a much more efficient means of payment."

Tezuka throws the money onto the counter and runs out of the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

Yes, this chapter's in past tense. The rest of the chapters will all be in past tense, since the first chapter was more of a prologue.

* * *

Oshitari and Sanada were lucky enough to have seats next to one another, and were lucky enough to master the art of whispering in class. The two of them watched Tezuka, who sat a bit farther up front. His eyes were dazed, his expression mesmerized, his hand limp, almost dangling off the desk. It was a position most unlike him, and Oshitari and Sanada doubted they were the only ones who had noticed this.

"He's acting strange today," Oshitari said. His wispy blue hair blew across his face, but he didn't appear to notice. He glanced at Sanada, who was equally distracted. "Come to think of it, he was acting strange yesterday, too. I wonder what happened. I heard from someone that he didn't go straight home. A girlfriend, perhaps?" He chuckled at the idea, earning him a disapproving look from Sanada.

The teacher glanced at the talking pair, but one charming glance from Oshitari was all it took to relieve them of any guilt. The teacher turned away. Sanada continued with the conversation, listening to Oshitari with one ear and to the teacher with another. It was far too precarious to risk the chances of missing something the teacher might put an exam. Oshitari figured as much from Sanada's expression, and rolled his eyes. "Really, Sanada. Aren't you worried about Tezuka at all? He has been in a daze for quite some time now."

"It is not our place to pry," Sanada answered firmly, recognizing the look in Oshitari's eyes. "If it is a family problem, then we shall let Tezuka himself deal with it. If he feels he needs our assistance, he will come to us."

Oshitari frowned. "You have no sense of adventure," he said seriously. "I'm going to ask Atobe."

"And Atobe will hire a private investigator. Then Tezuka will find out, and he'll be upset with us for the rest of the month. Don't bother." Sanada sighed. "You know Atobe will overdo it, and put the blame on us if-and when-Tezuka finds out. And look sophisticated and self righteous while doing so. He won't be of any help to us, or to Tezuka."

Oshitari's frown deepened. "Well, if you're unwilling to help me, I don't see what other choice I have."

"We could always not pry," Sanada suggested dryly, turning away to take notes. Out of the corner of his mouth, he added, "If Tezuka keeps up the behavior, we'll speak to him. But until at least a week's time, not a word, understood?"

Not one to risk being slapped by Sanada, or being sent to run laps, Oshitari obliged, although grudgingly. "Fine."

_But there's a saying, _he mused. _It's not illegal if you don't get caught. _

* * *

"Congratulations, Fuji," Gakuto said, patting him on the back. "You've got a new toy."

"Don't speak of him so condescendingly," Fuji scolded. "He seems… enjoyable. Entertaining, if you will."

Gakuto rolled his eyes. "And you're telling me off about being condescending?"

Fuji smiled sweetly. "You know how I am," he said warmly. "It's a wonderful way to start off a new year."

"Suppose so," Gakuto murmured. "You know, I haven't had a decent victim in almost a month. A lot of us haven't. You're freaking lucky, you know."

"I know," he replied peacefully. "But the victims always come around New Year's. You'll be fine. I just… got a head start. That's all."

"You get a head start every year. Out of all of us, I think you've always been the most successful. Either that, or the guys around here have developed a fetish for brunettes with blue eyes." Gakuto pouted. "It's unfair."

"They like redheads too, I'm sure," Fuji soothed.

"No, but really. What's your trick? Do you put some mind controlling pill in their drinks, or something?" Gakuto joked.

Fuji hummed. "I do the same thing that the rest of you do," he said easily. His eyes opened. "Meet them… seduce them… gain their trust and love and become their obsession. It's all quite simple, and quite easy. I just happen to be better at it than you. I think it's the temper." He reached out and smoothed Gakuto's hair. "You need to be a little less volatile, Gakuto."

"Hey!"

"It's true." With that, he changed the topic. "The New Year is in a week," Fuji said contemplatively. "Yuuta's going to be old enough soon."

"You don't even know if he'll be selected," Gakuto pointed out. "There's still a chance he'll be freed, come New Year."

The two of them were sitting by the mirror again, Fuji leaning against the frame, peering into the shop, and Gakuto sitting on the floor beside him. "That's true," Fuji murmured. "Yuuta was always a bit different. He's not demon material." He sighed. "But he won't be happy," he said wryly. "If he's not chosen, he'll throw a temper tantrum and ignore me for a week."

Gakuto snorted. "Why would he _want _to be a succubus? Why would anyone want to be a succubus? You have a weird brother." At Fuji's warning glance, he added hastily, "But he'll be luckier than us, regardless of his opinion of it."

"I'm not so sure about everyone else, though," Fuji commented. "It's likely that Echizen _will _be selected. He's certainly the type." _Snarky, arrogant, stubborn, pushy… _And, of course, he was stunningly beautiful. It was a quality present in all the succubae, or, at least, all the succubae that were chosen.

"I know. But he has another year."

"Then there's Kirihara. Do you think he'll be chosen?"

"The shopkeeper made him a half blood, I think." Gakuto thought for a moment. Kirihara was a special case. The shopkeeper always took a drop of the victim's blood, once they had been converted to demon-ship and were about to be sacrificed, and used that to create a new demon. Kirihara, however, was created from an especially stubborn human-and ended up as only a half blood. "I honestly don't know. Yukimura's certainly trained him well, and Kirihara seems very capable. But somehow…"

"He doesn't seem right," Fuji finished, nodding. "He'll be very disappointed if he's not chosen. He and Yukimura are very close."

"And the rejected succubae are forbidden from entering the shop," Gakuto added, frowning. "Fuji, won't that mean your brother…"

Fuji stood, smiling pleasantly. "Let's go visit Marui and Jiroh," he said. "I'm sure they have something more enjoyable to talk about."

Gakuto stood and followed him deeper into the mirror without a word.

* * *

Tezuka knew Oshitari and Sanada were following him, but decided to ignore them. What point was there in telling them to turn around and go home? Sanada might have obeyed, but Oshitari would follow until he found out what was going on. Tezuka hoped they wouldn't see the spirit in the mirror like he did—maybe then he could pass it off as a whim of sorts.

The mirror shop was just up ahead. He could hear Oshitari murmuring about something. _The man needs to learn to talk more quietly, _he thought dryly.

It was foolish of them to follow him. Sanada majored in law: He of all people ought to have known that stalking someone was frowned upon. Oshitari majored in psychology, and surely he would have understood that Tezuka's mind frame allowed for no horseplay.

Tezuka paused at the door. The shopkeeper was in, this time, but he seemed to be fast asleep on the counter. How irresponsible of him.

Perhaps he ought to ask the shopkeeper about the spirit? Was it even a spirit? He entered without a second thought, and the shopkeeper sat up in surprise, mumbling something incoherently. "Tezuka, my boy," he said, sounding pleased. "You came. We were expecting you."

_We?_

"Were you?" Tezuka simply stated instead, and stood there awkwardly.

"Come in, come in." The shopkeeper seemed impatient now, and hurried him into the small, dark room, in which he'd seen the spirit. "This is the room you were in last time, eh? A lot of our customers have unfinished business to attend to. Feel free to visit the mirrors as much as you'd like."

Tezuka stared at him. What an odd man this was. In his eyes, there was a touch of madness, a hint of insanity. But if it would allow him to see that strange mirror again, he decided he would put up with it, at least temporarily.

The shopkeeper then left, closing the door behind him.

"Hello?" Tezuka called, keeping his voice firm. He could have sworn he heard murmuring, giggling, even, and refused to believe he was going delusional. "Is someone there?"

"My, Tezuka-sama, back so soon?"

_That voice…_

He turned around and there he stood, an ethereally beautiful young man with a smile beautiful as a blade, eyes sparkling like cyanide. "Oh, don't be upset," he cooed. "It's wonderful to see you again, though my visitors don't usually come so quickly."

"Who are you?" he demanded. For some reason, he felt dizzy, and he wanted to sink to the floor, lean against a wall and sleep for a month. There was the scent of vanilla and roses in the room, but that couldn't be possible, because it was so dark, so dark, so empty, so empty.

"Do you want my name?" the teenager offered. "I have many names, you know. I wouldn't know which one you'd want. Let's see, I have a French name, an Austrian name, a Spanish name, an English name, a Chinese name, an Indian name, an Italian name, a Yugoslavian name—"

_What in the…?_

Tezuka could already feel a migraine coming on. "Do you happen to have a Japanese name?"

"Ah!" The boy's eyes lit up. "Yes, I do. It's Fuji Syusuke, but I quite prefer my Japanese name, myself. It's Jean Val—"

"That'll do," Tezuka decided. Then he realized who he was talking to—a ghost, a ghoul, a wraith, dammit, a _wraith_—and backed up immediately. "What are you?" he asked, rephrasing his question.

Fuji pouted charmingly. "Tezuka-sama's always cutting me off," he complained, and folded his arms. "Aren't you going to ask something more interesting? Like why I'm not inside the mirror, anymore?"

"I was about to," he replied defensively, warily, carefully.

Fuji leaned forward, tilted his head to the left, and smiled. He raised a finger and touched it to Tezuka's lips. "I wanted to see you," he purred, and as he took another step forward, Tezuka took another step back.

The college student quickly pulled Fuji off of him and took a deep breath, vaguely aware of his own burning face and rosy cheeks. "This is inappropriate," he said, then felt his cheeks burn with greater intensity when Fuji laughed.

It was a small, trickling laugh, and something told Tezuka it was faked, faked to perfection, but he didn't get the opportunity to take his thoughts much farther as Fuji answered, "Tezuka-sama, please don't be a prude. I don't like prudes." This time, he brushed a strand of hair away from Tezuka's eyes, and smiled sweetly, looking like the darling little angel he certainly wasn't. "Don't you like me, Tezuka-sama?"

"I don't know you," he answered carefully. "I don't know who you are, what you are. I only came yesterday because I saw something and now that I've confirmed it…"

"You'll leave?" Something flashed in Fuji's eyes, and he said, almost hesitantly, "Don't leave me here. It's been so long since I've been able to see anybody, speak to anybody… You don't know how long I've been trapped here."

"You're a ghost," Tezuka said slowly.

His lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head, endearingly. He held out a hand. "I'm perfectly solid and three-dimensional," he answered cheerfully. "Go on."

Tezuka let his fingers brush the hand, and yes, they were three dimensional, but they were smooth, so smooth, oddly, abnormally, strangely smooth… He pulled away quickly. "Then what are you?" he asked steadily.

Fuji paused, then. "Well now," he said, baring his teeth in a smile. "How would you define the word _succubus, _Tezuka-sama?"

* * *

"Oshitari," Sanada said worriedly. "Are you alright? You seem faint. What in the world is Tezuka doing in that shop, anyway? It's suspicious."

Oshitari pulled away from the shop's door. "It's fine," he answered, but his voice lacked the usual confidence, the usual arrogance it held. "I thought I saw… No, I must have been imagining things."

"I told you not to look inside," Sanada answered, half exasperated, half angry. "And now you can barely stand up straight. For Kami-sama's sake…"

"I'm fine," Oshitari snapped. "Let's go."

However, even as the tensai turned away, he knew he saw something, someone, vivid and petite, with a bob of cranberry colored hair and sharp blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Feyren and I have finals soon, so updates will slow.**

* * *

Tezuka gaped. "You –"

"I'm a succubus," Fuji confirmed, smilingly. "Would you like some tea?" He waved his hands, and instantly, a teapot and several dainty teacups appeared.

_Just play along_, Tezuka told himself. _This couldn't possibly be… _"It would appear that you're a magician as well," he said.

"Oh, no," Fuji said, waving the silly thought away. "All succubae have a few supernatural abilities. I can conjure things. Gakuto's a mind reader, and Yukimura has telekinesis." He spoke about it as simply as one might have spoken about the weather. "The real magician is Marui. He can make things disappear." Fuji smiled slowly. "It's proven to be a very useful tactic."

"Who are all these people?" he asked. Fuji studied him for a minute, then broke into a smile.

"Oh, you wouldn't be able to see them. Not yet, anyway." Fuji poured a cup of tea. "You can't see other succubae unless you've been marked – the only one you can see is the one you were selected to be with." Here, Fuji handed him the teacup and tilted his head to one side. "It's warm. Do you like your tea with sugar? I like mine with wasabi."

Tezuka frowned at the odd food choice, but refrained from commenting. "Who 'selects' these things?"

"No one," Fuji replied, shrugging. He managed to make the casual gesture seem oddly elegant, and prepared to pour another cup of tea. "It's pre-determined, I think. I never actually thought about it. Think of it as a soulmate. It's all wonderfully romantic." His voice and tone were all very childlike, and his eyes widened at the prospect of romance.

Yes, a migraine was definitely coming on. "And these others: Gakuto, Yukimura, Marui – they're your… friends?"

"Why, yes. We're all succubae. And they're all very beautiful. Do you find me beautiful Tezuka-sama?" he asked coyly.

"I…" _Yes, _he wanted to say, but knew better than to. Something was off – this couldn't have been right. Fuji – if that was his name – appeared much too confident in himself for it to have been his first time with a "soulmate." He was ethereal, strangely beautiful – someone like that couldn't have been real.

"But it _is _real," Fuji replied innocently, and for a moment, Tezuka wondered if he'd spoken aloud. Fuji laughed upon reading Tezuka's expression, and it was a small, trickling laugh, like a brook of sorts. "I'm real, you're real, this is real. And as for confidence – I'm a confident person, Tezuka-sama. Or, I try to be. It's hard to be confident around you. You're very imperial." Fuji smiled, and Tezuka wondered if Fuji was trying to flatter him. "And… you frighten me."

"I frighten you?" Tezuka repeated incredulously. Here he was, a demon of sorts, and he was saying that Tezuka, a human, a mortal, frightened him?

"Why, yes. You understand – you control my future, Tezuka-sama. I've been in this little shop, this abandoned shop, for such a long time. It's lonely, I fear. The succubae provide me company, but it's incredibly lonely in this room. We can't wander, can't leave the shop unless our hosts... _soulmates _choose to allow us out."

"Then you've never been outside before." He felt oddly pitiful for this beautiful creature, though he barely knew him. Logic told him to run away while he could, but instinct told him to stay – something about him was strangely alluring.

"Never," Fuji said miserably. "It's horrifically lonely here, so dark and despondent. "You can't imagine. You live in a beautiful, bright environment with your friends and family. I'm trapped in a dusty room, a dark room, a dark mirror, with demons who feel much the same way I do. Only the lucky ones get to leave."

"What do you mean?"

"There have been succubae in the past who found a soulmate, a soulmate who dared walk into the shop and try to rescue them. But they're put through a series of tasks, and eventually, they're sent to the realm of the succubae, for a short period of time, to see if they're capable and worthy of rescuing us. Only a few made it. The chances are low."

"What happens to those who fail?"

"The humans are trapped in the realm, and the succubae die." Fuji seemed near tears now, though he didn't look like the type who was capable of crying. "I understand if you wish to leave," he offered. "You can leave now and never come back. I've only known you for a day, at most – but I think I've fallen in love with you."

Tezuka's heartbeat quickened, and to hell with logic.

"I think I've fallen in love with you, and I'd hate it if you were to be trapped here," Fuji continued. "It's safest if you go. I – I'll just stay, and…" He trailed off and averted his eyes. "I'm so sorry for taking you here."

"I couldn't leave you here," Tezuka replied firmly, wondering why he'd grown so attached to the brunette. "It'd be inhumane."

"But I couldn't let you be trapped here," Fuji protested, though his eyes held a noticeable spark of hope in them. "You have friends, and family. I have no one." He lowered his eyes pathetically.

"You deserve better," he answered quietly. "And I wouldn't – won't – fail."

"Does that mean…?"

"I'll do this for you," Tezuka promised. "I'll risk it," and he promised this, promised his life away, as easily as if he were promising a date.

Unbeknownst to him, Fuji's smile widened a fraction – the smile wasn't at all sincere.

* * *

Fuji hummed idly, brushing Gakuto's hair, while Marui leaned back, kicking his feet into the air. "That was successful," Fuji mused. "Somewhat. I haven't broken him completely, yet, which is strange. But it's a promising start."

Marui snickered. "I was watching your performance. Man, you get better as the years go on, don't you? Only one 'soulmate'," he said, putting quotes around the word _soulmate _and laughing to himself. "That's a pretty good way to put it. But _host _is a more accurate word for it. You made succubae sound like angels, Fuji."

"Succubae are demons, the children and servants of the devil, Lucifer, who was a fallen angel himself," Fuji pointed out, looking all too proud of himself.

Gakuto snorted. "That's a pretty distant connection. We're about as far from angels as you get."

Fuji smiled. "No harm in a few white lies."

"You'd think the man knows nothing about succubae," Gakuto commented.

"He probably doesn't," Marui replied. His smirk widened. "There aren't any survivors to tell the story, anyway."

Gakuto gave a scoffing laugh. "Yeah, really. Their souls _are _trapped here, with us… I think that was the only true part of your story, Fuji. You always convince your victims to let you outside, and…"

"Was it? Let me think…"

It was true – their souls were trapped, but by then, most of their original mindframe had vanished. They were incapable of thinking for themselves, simply because the succubae had all but tortured them into oblivion, had them wrapped around their fingers, turned them into menservants. It was frightening, almost – by the time the succubae were done with their victims, it was as if their victims were addicted – and in a way, they were. They couldn't live without the demon that had bonded them, couldn't survive, and once the succubus had, in a sense, used up the capabilities of the human, their spirits were taken away, to play with for an eternity. And then the succubae moved on to another human, another toy.

"You know, I think you're right," Fuji admitted. "That was the only part of the story that was true."

"See?"

"This one seems fun, at least." The three of them turned around to see Niou, leaning casually against the frame of the mirror, waving casually. "Yo."

"He does," Fuji agreed. "Fun, for a while."

"Maybe he'll even be 'the one,'" Marui said, grinning. "You know. The actual soulmate thing."

Niou waved the thought away. "You know that's just an old wife's tale. There's no such thing."

"How do _you _know?"

"Because it never happened before!"

"So?"

"So, it never happened before, and it's never going to," Niou said flatly.

Gakuto jumped in between them. "You two can't go two minutes without arguing."

"Same goes for you and Shishido," Marui said with an eye-roll.

"If 'the one' ever comes, we'll know," Fuji said simply. "They're all supposed to come in the same year, when they do, right? And besides, I hear that the soulmates aren't affected by us. We can't woo them unless they fall for us, themselves. It's very romantic," he added with a sigh. "Because they'd fall in love with us, of their own free will, right?"

"Wait, wait. I never heard this story. What is it?" Gakuto demanded.

Fuji turned to him quickly, eagerly, and they began discussing it like two giddy schoolgirls. "Basically, there's a rumor that each succubus has a soulmate, a real soulmate. Not just another victim. They'll be attracted to us immediately, like our victims, but they fall in love with us of their own free will, and not because of our..." Fuji practically giggled, "our dashing good looks and demon-y charms. And they can save us, either by sacrificing themselves or by having all of us reincarnated! It's all wonderfully romantic, isn't it?"

"It's a stupid story."

Fuji agreed. "But until someone proves it right or wrong, well…" He smiled. "We should have some fun with it, ne?"

Marui jumped up. "Speaking of toys, I hear Gakuto's got a new one?"

Gakuto scowled. "Shut up."

Niou chimed in, "Yes, I hear someone saw you in the mirror. What did he look like? Did you get to speak to him yet?"

"No," Gakuto admitted. "It was some really tall guy with blue hair and glasses. Seems like the studious type, if you ask me. I didn't talk to him. He was outside, peering in. I think he's a friend of Tezuka's."

"Tezuka is the studious type as well," Fuji said, dropping the –sama. "But they're easy enough to win over."

"I know that," Gakuto retorted. "But this guy… I don't know. Tezuka's the stiff, stoic sort of guy, but this blue haired person didn't seem like it. Who knows? Either way, it'll be fun to break him." He smiled a smile that was not unlike Fuji's own. "You're not the only successful one, Fuji. We've all got our fair share of victims, hm?"

He gestured to the vast expanse of dark shadows haunting the room, reaching out but never quite touching the small cluster of succubae by the mirror.

Niou whistled. "All yours?"

"Most," replied the redhead. "There are a few of yours, a few of Marui's, a few of Fuji's. But most of these are mine. They know I always hang out here."

"You switch spots every month," Marui pointed out.

"They're vigilant. They can find me. It's a very fun game."

"For you."

"For them, too," Gakuto said defensively. "They like finding me."

The others managed to get into a three-way argument, while Fuji watched the creeping shadows, desperately trying to reach Gakuto but never succeeding.

_Tezuka will be like that, someday, _he thought, and wondered why the thought gave him a slightly unsettling feeling, instead of the sadistic pleasure it used to.

* * *

"Is Oshitari-sama alright?" a girl asked, sidling up to said boy and smiling sweetly. "Oshitari-sama seems distracted today."

Oshitari nodded vaguely. "Yes, I have a lot on my mind," he said absentmindedly, and sat up. He sent a charming smile her way. Sanada rolled his eyes, while the girl swooned. "Thank you for asking," Oshitari offered. He took her hand and kissed it gently.

The girl squealed excitedly and ran off to tell her friends that Oshitari Yuushi, _the _Oshitari Yuushi, had kissed her. No doubt she'd exclude the part that it was only her hand, and not her lips.

"Don't you think that was too much?"

Oshitari turned to Sanada, who was torn between being amused and being exasperated. "You kissed her on the hand. Usually you fling a smile at them over your shoulder and that's that."

"I've been ignoring them lately," Oshitari murmured. "I need to make up for it."

Sanada frowned at him, "The girl was right. You've been distracted lately; you and Tezuka both. Did something happen?"

Oshitari was about to deny it, but upon seeing Sanada's trademarked _Don't give me that crap _glare, he sighed and replied, "It's the mirror shop we went to the other day. I'm certain there was someone there – in the mirror, I mean."

Sanada said dubiously, "You saw something in a mirror? Well, it could have been your reflection –"

"I'm sure it wasn't," Oshitari interrupted firmly. "The person in the mirror had a smaller shape than mine. His eyes were pale blue, not dark. They were sharp, and he didn't wear glasses. And his hair was the most vivid shade of cranberry red."

"_Cranberry _red?" Sanada repeated. "That's an odd color."

"And he had a pageboy bob," Oshitari added. "Straight hair. There's no way it could have been me."

"Maybe it was one of the workers."

"He was looking straight at me," Oshitari argued. "Why would a worker look straight at me? We were outside – no one should have been able to see us. Besides, the shop looked empty, except for that shopkeeper."

"It must have been a trick of the eye."

Oshitari sighed in frustration, "Go with me today. I'll prove that there was someone there."

Sanada folded his arms. "No. When you went last time, you were faint and dizzy for two hours, and could barely walk home. I had to carry your tennis equipment and schoolbags. I'm not doing that again. Besides, if I look too, then we'll both be faint and we'll probably collapse right by the mirror shop. No one's going to help _us _home."

"For Kami-sama's sake, Sanada, just go with me."

They went to the shop later that day. The store was empty, oddly enough, but Oshitari insisted on entering. Sanada followed helplessly behind.

"Hello?" Oshitari called. "Is someone there?"

Sanada looked like he couldn't see or hear a thing, but Oshitari heard it clearly. A sweet, light, lilting voice, telling him to go inside the rooms. Oshitari realized that the room in which he'd seen the redhead was closed – an old wooden door blocked the mirror. "Wait here," he told Sanada, ignoring the man's mutter of "Gladly" and entered the room, being sure to close it behind him.

The room felt full, but looked empty. At first, he could see nothing.

Then someone muttered, "Speak of the devil!" and some giggling ensued, from all corners of the room. "Hi," the same person said, and Oshitari whipped around to see the redhead he'd seen in the mirror sitting on a table, his legs dangling off it. "Nice to meet you. Well, we met the other day, right?" He had a pale, porcelain-like face, and looked incredibly fragile. His eyes were a sharp, pale blue, like he'd seen before, and his hair was shimmering and smooth, reflecting what little light the room appeared to have.

He was entrancing.

"I'm sorry," Oshitari began, confused. "I saw you the other day, yes. I must have been seeing things – I thought you were in a mirror, or perhaps I only saw your reflection –"

The redhead shrugged. "No, I was in the mirror. I can come out when I want to, but not out of the room." He smiled brightly, and instantly, Oshitari was charmed. "What's your name?"

"Oshitari Yuushi," he replied, not liking the way his voice shook, not liking how vulnerable it made him feel, not liking how vulnerable it made him sound.

"Cool." The redhead did a flip and jumped off the table. "I'm Mukahi Gakuto." He landed centimeters away from Oshitari, looked up and grinned. Again, Oshitari felt his knees go weak, felt his face flare up in a blush.

Since when did _he, _the stud, the player, the charmer of his school, blush at something as simple as a smile?

Gakuto got back on the table and crawled forward so he was at eye level with Oshitari. "You're so tall," he commented, and it was only when he spoke that Oshitari realized how close they were, so close that he could feel the redhead's breath on his face.

Oshitari swallowed. "Am I?"

"I've never met someone so tall before." He fixed his startlingly pale eyes on Oshitari's, hopefully. The latter's breathing quickened. "Sit up here with me. Please?"

Oshitari complied before he even thought about it – something seemed right – and also terribly wrong, but…

"You're very interesting. I like you, Yuushi-san." Oshitari looked up at the use of his first name, and Gakuto looked down, ashamed. "Ah, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have used your first name. That was rude of me."

"It's fine," Oshitari heard himself say. "I don't mind."

"Really?" Gakuto looked up again, and he found himself mesmerized by those wide blue eyes. "You can call me Gakuto, then."

"Gakuto," he tried, testing out the name.

Gakuto laughed that light, lilting laugh, and once more, he found himself enamored. "I like it," the redhead informed him. "It sounds nice when you say it, Yuushi-san."

He didn't like how shy he felt, like a _schoolgirl. _He was Oshitari Yuushi, the player, the prince of the school. He wasn't supposed to feel this way – he made others feel this way. This couldn't possibly be right.

"Who… what are you?" he breathed.

Gakuto paused, then tilted his head to one side, a gesture that Oshitari found undeniably cute. "Do you really want to know?"

He thought about it, wondered about the inexplicable mysteries that this boy held, the mysteries of the room, of the mirrors, of the shop, of Tezuka's odd behavior, even, and found that yes, he did want to know. He voiced this to Gakuto, who in return, explained the situation – explained everything, the succubae, the mirrors, the rooms, the 'soulmates.'

In telepathy.

Oshitari found himself speechless, and once again, Gakuto averted his eyes shyly and apologized for causing so much trouble, for being what he was and for leading Oshitari here. He spoke of it easily, like he was talking about something as simple as the weather, but kept his voice shy and modest all the same.

It was frightening – the situation was frightening.

He wanted to run, to never come back.

But at the same time…

"Are you mad at me, Yuushi?" the boy asked, disconcertedly.

He wanted to be. He wanted to be angry.

"No," he replied slowly. "I couldn't ever be angry at you, not possibly."

It was when Gakuto beamed and kissed him gently on the cheek, a feather-light touch that sent him reeling, that Oshitari knew he was in trouble.


	4. Chapter 4

Finals week starting the twenty-fifth. This might be the last update of January, but maybe we'll put up the next chapter toward the end of January, right after finals week.

* * *

"Five radical six," Sanada answered briefly, and sat back down as his teacher proceeded to explain why the answer was correct.

The teacher had asked both Oshitari and Tezuka before turning to Sanada, and unfortunately, neither of them had been able to answer.

Unfortunately.

What a pair.

Sanada watched the two of them – Oshitari and Tezuka – as they sat in class, glassy-eyed and dazed. He almost snorted to himself – they looked like a couple of idiots, indeed.

To the common person, it wouldn't seem as though there was any major change in Tezuka's personality. He was stoic and quiet as always, and he'd regained his concentration to some extent – a very meager extent. But Sanada knew better; he was quieter than usual (which was saying something), and much, much less focused than he used to be. A day, two days, even, could be put up with, but this was nearing a week, and someone had to put a stop to it, or he'd ruin his own career, before it even started.

Oshitari's change was far more drastic and obvious, however. He didn't flirt nearly as much as he used to. In face, Sanada dared to venture that perhaps he didn't flirt at all, anymore. He used to practice the violin and the cello after school, but these days he was going straight home – at least, Sanada assumed it was straight home – and insisted that he be left alone. His fan girls were very worried, but Sanada could care less about _that_.

It had something to do with that mirror shop – he knew it _must _have something to do with that mirror shop. But what could a mirror possibly do to a couple of eighteen year olds? Oshitari insisted on seeing a redhead in the mirror before – when he came back, all he said was, "I don't want to talk about it."

Tezuka was outwardly denying the entire situation, and had the situation not been rather grim, Sanada might have found it amusing.

He almost wanted to investigate the mirror shop himself, but he knew better than to. Chances were, he'd end up a drooling mess like his other two friends, and that honestly did not seem like a pleasant state. He eyed the two of them with disdain and distaste. Finals were coming up, after all, and _someone _had to be the sensible one.

* * *

Atobe was not amused. Sanada, Oshitari, and Tezuka were three of the tennis team's best players – not nearly as good as _himself, _of course, but still fairly decent.

Their tennis today was atrocious.

Sanada seemed ever the faithful one, and while his tennis was decent, it was still obviously off – probably because he seemed too preoccupied with staring at Tezuka and Oshitari, and less preoccupied with winning the tennis match.

Tezuka was entirely off; Atobe's insight told him something was on his mind, that he was distracted and in a rush because he wanted to go somewhere. Tennis, up until that point, had been the man's only focus—that and law school. While Atobe was somewhat—_somewhat_—pleased that Tezuka had learned to appreciate something less mundane and more (hopefully) socially applicable, he was quite displeased with the fact that his tennis had crashed to a bare minimum.

Oshitari, it seemed, was in a similar position. It was odd, to say the least; he was one of the perfectionists of the school, and it seemed he didn't even bother to flirt with his fan girls anymore. It was, of course, a change for the better. Less competition for Atobe (not that Oshitari posed any sort of threat to him, because nobody could pose a threat to the brilliant Atobe Keigo).

His tennis, however, had also dropped noticeably, and both seemed awfully deterred from their usually intelligent mindframe. In fact, the two of them acted like quite the pair of imbeciles.

So, he'd repeat himself. Atobe was not amused.

What in the world could possibly be distracting the three of them so much? Tezuka was a fastidious student, and Oshitari wasn't bad, either.

(Second to himself, of course. He was the best, and don't anybody forget it.)

Atobe approached Sanada, who was warming up for a match with Oshitari. "What in the world is wrong with the two of them today?" he demanded, not bothering with a greeting. "Their concentration is horrific."

Sanada rolled his eyes. "You try asking them," he replied with a vaguely annoyed tone. "Investigate yourself, if you care so much. But they've been distracted ever since they—" He paused there, and seemed to contemplate his words, before concluding, "They've been distracted lately."

"And what is it that could distract them so greatly?" he asked, intrigued. A girlfriend, perhaps? A love triangle?

What a day it would be, for Tezuka Kunimitsu to get involved in something as "scandalous" as a love triangle.

Atobe voiced this to Sanada, who merely snorted and said, "Yeah, with a mirror, maybe. I don't know, but they'd better stop it. Finals are coming up in a week, and neither of them have bothered studying."

"With a mirror?" Atobe asked, bemused.

Sanada dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. "I have a tennis match to play," he said, glancing at Oshitari, who was tying his shoes with an oddly contemplative look. "If you want to know so badly, ask them yourself. If they'll tell you."

With that, he walked off to the courts, not bothering to even glance back at Atobe. Needless to say, Atobe was offended.

It seemed that Sanada didn't know quite what was going on, either. He chose to dismiss the comments about the mirror—clearly the man had gone delirious.

He made up his mind. He was going to send someone to follow Tezuka home (of course he himself would never condescend to such a plebian task), and find out exactly what was going on.

And of course, this was for the purpose of recovering his two teammates and friends.

_Not _for the purpose of beating Sanada at his own game.

Yeah.

* * *

Yukimura gave Akaya a fierce, close hug before standing back. "We taught you everything," Yukimura promised, smoothing Akaya's hair. "It won't be that bad. It'll be quick, I promise. And when it's over, the relief will be worth the pain."

Akaya swallowed and nodded slowly. "I know," he replied. "Don't worry, I'll be okay. It won't be bad, I know it."

Yukimura stared at him for a long moment, then pulled him back into an embrace. "You won't be a demon," he said fervently. "You'll be sent out as a human. You're too sweet, Akaya."

Akaya shook his head vigorously. "Then I'll be apart from you all," he said miserably. "It's bad either way."

Fuji stood beside Yuuta, who was staring determinedly at the air, though he was noticeably trembling. Fuji Syusuke gave his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze, though Yuuta quickly jerked it away. "Stop it, aniki," he complained. "I'll be fine."

"It's a painful process," Fuji murmured. "It's a lose-lose situation, Yuuta."

"How?" Yuuta asked, scowling. "I'm going to be a succubus like the rest of you. What's the big deal?"

Fuji opened his eyes and fixed him with a startlingly sharp blue stare. "Listen to me. Just because you were born into this life doesn't mean you can't escape from it."

Yuuta's scowl deepened, threatening to tear a line down his face. "Do you think I'm unfit to be a demon or something? I'm not as innocent as you make me out to be," he snapped, and turned away. The elder Fuji gave an almost inaudible sigh, and finally smiled softly.

"I never said that," he reassured. "Let's go."

The rest of the succubae watched almost awed, remembering their own rites. Marui and Gakuto flinched, recalling the process they'd had to go to, while others were indifferent to it. The process was different for each demon, in the end, and so depending on each demon's characteristics, the acceptance or rejection ritual varied.

In the end, both were still awfully painful. The heartbreak of being rejected, separated from the people—demons, demons—one loved, and the heartbreak of being accepted, confined to a world of misery.

As Fuji said, it was a lose-lose situation.

"Get out of here," Marui said fondly, giving Akaya a quick push toward the door. "You'll be okay. We trained you alright, you know? You're a toughie." He affectionately mussed Akaya's hair. "Good luck, okay?"

It was hard to tell if he meant _Good luck, I hope you pass, _or _Good luck, I hope you get to escape. _Akaya accepted the wish either way, and smiled nervously back.

Yuuta, meanwhile, refused any such wishes, and pushed past them all. "I'm coming back a demon like the rest of you," he said, though it was mostly directed toward Fuji. "And you won't be able to treat me like a little kid, anymore."

The look on Fuji Syusuke's face was almost heartbreaking, but Yuuta took no notice as he pushed through the doors and left for the test. Akaya followed after, head held high and shoulders back.

With Yuuta gone, Fuji collapsed onto the ground, and leaned against the wall for support. "He's so young," he murmured. "I don't think I was as young when I took the test. I felt older, I felt much more ready. Yuuta's not ready. He's still a child."

"He's only a year younger than you," Shishido reprimanded, sounding gentle for once. "He's going to be okay. I prepped him, myself."

"I don't want him to pass," Fuji answered. "I wish he'd fail on purpose."

"You know he can't," Niou put in. "The head guy can always tell. And there was some freaky magic thing that forced you to use the best of your abilities. It was crazy, but…"

"I know." He sighed, the look on his face almost angelically painful, nothing like the sadistic, cruel, confident smile he usually wore. "How long were the tests? They felt so long when I took them."

"About a day," Shishido replied. "Mine was a little less than a day. They'll be back by the end of tonight."

Jiroh plopped down beside him. "And don't worry about your brother being in pain," he added. "Their wounds are always healed, immediately after the exam. And their memories of the exam will be erased, so they won't be able to remember it."

"It comes back eventually," Gakuto pointed out. "I forgot mine for about a week, then it just came rushing back, and now I can barely forget it. I wonder if it's different for the ones who fail the test."

"Fail is a bad word to use for it," Yukimura murmured. "It should be more like—escaped. Escaped from the test."

"You never escape from the test. You pass it or fail it," Gakuto replied stubbornly. "The people who fail it are luckier, if you ask me."

"At least we'll know immediately whether they pass or fail," Marui added quickly, upon seeing Yukimura's and Fuji's expressions. "There's no waiting involved, no suspense."

"We're waiting now, aren't we?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted. "But Yuuta and Kirihara won't have to wait. They'll be okay. They're the ones who matter."

There was a moment of collective silence, then out of nowhere, Jiroh piped up, "Do you ever wonder what it's like to be human? One of my hosts told me that they had apples pies, all warm and soft, and really sweet. He brought me Pocky, once. Human foods are really good."

"We don't experience hunger," Marui said wearily.

"But it tasted really good," Jiroh said firmly. "And he showed me a photograph of his house. It was really pretty, a white house with a white fence, and pretty flowers by the sides. It was so colorful, and light."

"Everything seems colorful and light once you've been here," Niou said dryly.

Meanwhile, Ryoma stood a little off to the side, looking confused. "Why's everyone so upset?" he asked. "You've never voiced any problems about it before."

"It's because Yuuta and Kirihara are taking the test," Marui said.

Ryoma still looked confused, and Yukimura replied gently, "You'll understand next year."

There was the sound of a door opening, and Fuji got up from the spot on the floor, dusting himself off and plastering a sweet, alluring smile on his face. "Tezuka's here," he said briefly, and quickly left the mirror.

The rest of them watched him leave, silently, until finally Shishido asked, "Will he be okay?"

Marui dismissed the thought. "He can use it to his advantage, and if anyone knows how to, it's him," he replied ruefully. "He'll be fine. Let's wait for him inside."

* * *

Tezuka entered the mirror shop, still oddly empty. The door was open, however, and when he walked in, Fuji was already waiting for him.

"Hello," he greeted softly, sweetly. "I've missed you, Tezuka-sama."

He seemed absentminded, however, and Tezuka inquired, "Is something the matter?"

Fuji seemed to stiffen, then relaxed and smiled an innocent, but oddly miserable smile. "My brother," he explained. "He's undergoing a test. If he's lucky, he'll fail the test and be able to escape."

"You have a brother?" Tezuka asked in surprise.

"Yes, the leader makes them for us," Fuji said absently. "Yuuta's never been awfully fond of having an older brother. I think he hates me."

The supernatural being seemed so mortal at that moment, oddly vulnerable and miserable, so much so that Tezuka could hardly bear it. "Nobody could hate you."

Fuji's smile lightened at that. "Thank you, Tezuka-sama. I'm unworthy of such a statement."

"Couldn't your brother fail the test on purpose?"

"He's not allowed to," Fuji said, circling the room and touching a mirror gently. He seemed to flinch, and drew back his hand sharply as though he'd been burned. "There's a certain type of magic that we're vulnerable to, and thus we have no control over the extent of ability we use. We're forced to use all of it." He released an inaudible sigh, a sigh Tezuka only noticed by the rising and falling of his shoulders. "And besides," he said softly, "Yuuta wouldn't fail it on purpose, if his life depended on it. In a sense, it does." He laughed a rueful laugh at that, still trickling, still melodic, but harsher, darker. "Yuuta's wonderful and horrible like that."

"He sounds brave."

"Foolishly so," Fuji agreed. "But I love him."

He couldn't stand the miserable look on Fuji's face any longer, darkening his expression, and touched his hand to his, tightening his grasp slightly, then loosening it as Fuji sighed again.

Fuji had never looked more like a fallen angel.


	5. Chapter 5

Finals are over! (So is school. Feyren has a summer internship, and Rosie has a trip around the world. Don't mind us if we update slowly! And speaking of which, sorry about the very late update!)

* * *

"They're back."

Those were the first words spoken in perhaps two days; the succubae had waited in silence for the exam to end, and had been awaiting the results in an eerie quiet. Aside from the obligatory missions (though anybody could tell that Fuji and Gakuto's hearts weren't in it), no words had been exchanged at all.

All eyes turned to Echizen, who'd spoken. "They're back," he repeated. "Look."

In the shadows stood Kirihara and Yuuta, both looking upset. They were different types of upset—Kirihara looked miserable, whereas Yuuta looked infuriated. Nobody knew who to speak first, so Yuuta broke the silence.

"We failed the test."

Fuji looked ecstatic, absolutely ecstatic, and the joy that lit up his face could have been enough light to power up a town. Yukimura was quite a different story—he was relieved, of course, and delighted that Kirihara would be able to leave, but there was a slight tint of sadness in his eyes, and wistfulness, like he didn't want Kirihara to leave him.

Neither of the succubae—_humans, _now—looked particularly happy with their results, anyway. "I can't believe this," Yuuta fumed. "Don't think this makes you better than me. It's unfair; we should have passed. We went through all the trials, we made it through. And when we get to the end of it, the guy tells us we're not fit to be succubae and that we have a day to say our goodbyes. He's biased—did you put him up to this?" he demanded.

Fuji Syusuke ignored his ranting. "It'll be so wonderful out there," he insisted. "It's always bright outside, even in the evenings—well, if you live in a city, it will be. Do live in a city; it's a very lively place. Oh, but the countryside is quite amazing as well. You can be a musician, Yuuta! Music is very pleasant; we don't have that here. How do I describe it? You've never heard music, have you, Yuuta?"

By then, the both of them were rambling—Fuji the younger about how unfair it was and how he should have been a succubus, and Fuji the elder about how life outside was beautiful and how happy he was that Yuuta would get to experience it. He'd gone into a speech about Camille Saint Saens then, how his _Carnival of Animals _piece was simply wonderful and how Yuuta just _had _to learn to play them.

"Are you listening to yourself?" Yuuta demanded, grabbing his brother's shoulders. "I'm never going to see you again. And you're talking about classical music!"

"Are _you _listening to yourself? You've just achieved a life of freedom, and you're infuriated." Fuji's tone softened. "I know; I'll miss you. But I'm happy for you, I really am. The king—the shopkeeper—will make you a new family, and you'll learn to love them, too. I'm so, so happy for you, Yuuta."

For once, Yuuta looked like he didn't want to argue—they only had a day left together, in the end.

Kirihara was far less vocal. He kept his eyes steadily downcast. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I worked really hard for this test, too."

"I know," Yukimura assured. "I'm not mad at you; I'm happy, really! You'll have a great life out there, a family. They'll make you a family; it will be wonderful." He was tearing up, and Kirihara didn't know if it was from joy or misery. "You never got to have a family here. I've heard about it from Kenzan-kun. There is a mother, who loves you unconditionally, a father to talk to. And sometimes you have brothers or sisters to play with. It sounds wonderful; you'll love it, I promise. And they have so many sports and activities out there. Like Fuji said, there's music—but I don't think you'll enjoy classical music very much. Maybe you'd like sports—like lacrosse, or basketball, or tennis." He seemed thoughtful. "Yes, tennis would suit you well."

Kirihara looked confused. "Tetris? What's that?"

"_Tennis,_" Yukimura corrected gently. "It's a sport. I don't know much about it, but it sounds very exciting."

Fuji overheard this. "Yes, it is! Oh, Yuuta and Kirihara should join a tennis team, and stick together!"

Meanwhile, Gakuto was off to the side, chatting with Marui. "They're not fooling anyone," Gakuto said sympathetically. "Yukimura looks like a kicked puppy."

Marui nodded. "Fuji doesn't look so great either."

Jiroh padded up to them, looking up at them with wide eyes. "But aren't they happy? They look happy."

Gakuto smiled down at him. Jiroh was one of the newer members—no one knew how he managed to pass; the kid looked like a saint, but he was the pet, the one nobody could ever be upset with. He loved everyone unconditionally, and everyone loved him back. "They _are _happy," he assured. "They're really happy. None of us would wish this type of life on anyone else."

Jiroh yawned. "Then why do you say they're upset?"

"Because they're going to miss the kids," Marui explained emphatically. "It's pretty depressing. Remember that Aoi kid?"

"The really enthusiastic one?"

"Yeah," Marui agreed. "He and I were pretty close, but then he left the realm. That was a few decades ago… I wonder if he looks older, now."

"Probably." Gakuto shrugged. "Humans age. And they die, too." He sounded surprisingly envious. "Anyway, it's basically sad to get attached to anybody here. People can leave at any second. Best you don't make friends till the person passes the test. If they fail, wish them well and be happy you're not going to be emotionally depressed for a decade." He glanced back at the smiling pair. "It's been a while since I've gotten attached to anybody. We don't really have love in this realm either, you know. Even brotherly love is rare."

"But I love you guys," Jiroh said, wide eyed. "And you all love me too, right?"

Marui grinned at him. There was no point in disappointing someone like Jiroh; people just couldn't bring themselves to hate him. Even as demons, they loved him unconditionally. Jiroh had only gotten one victim, and that had been done almost against his will. He'd been as kind to the victim as he could, and broke him as gently as he could. Someone like that couldn't last long, here. Marui himself was particularly fond of Jiroh, as was Gakuto, and so it was no lie when they said, "Of course we do. Go take a nap."

"Okay."

Marui and Gakuto shared an amused smile.

* * *

Tezuka was very surprised when a redhead came to greet him. He walked with a fluid sort of grace, and his voice was mellifluous, exotically so. "Hey," the redhead said, standing hipshot. He gave Tezuka a once-over with cyan blue eyes. His smile was beautiful and deathly, and he was all sharp edges. He was pretty, Tezuka supposed, but in a different way. He seemed very—very vivid, capricious, erratic. Fuji looked much more fragile. "I'm Gakuto. Nice to meet you." There was a warmth to his voice, a tone that was softly lulling, like the rhythmic singing of wind chimes.

Tezuka looked at him for a few moments and tried to snap himself out of it. He felt nothing for this individual, but he had to admit that, like Fuji, the boy was striking. He said, "Where's Fuji?"

"Not feeling well," Gakuto said dismissively. "His brother left recently. It's pretty depressing. He left you a note, though. Said that if you want to talk with him, just leave him a letter on the table here or something. He'll reply via letters, so it's all good."

"Are you friends with him?" Tezuka inquired.

Gakuto mustered up the best sad smile he could, and judging by the look on Tezuka's face, it was very, very convincing. "Yes, I'm one of the few demons in the realm of the succubae. It's . . ." He let his voice trail off, looked demurely away, and glanced back at him. "It's lonely. Fuji's taken it especially hard; his brother's gone. He was one of the few people Fuji could talk to, and now he has nobody." He looked up, wide eyed. "Except _you._"

Tezuka was speechless, and the redhead took that moment to shove the letter in his hand and vanish.

He unfolded it as he left the mirror shop.

_Dear Tezuka-sama,_

_I'm sure Gakuto has explained the situation to you. He's very lonely, too, you know. It was kind of him to do this for me. Yuuta, darling Yuuta—he'll be all alone. Oh, that's not true; he'll have a family created for him, and he'll learn to love that family. And the family will love him. I'm happy for him, I really am._

_There are even fewer people in the succubae realm now. New succubae might be created soon; it's the New Year, and it's when things like these happen. I wish it weren't, though; I would never wish anybody to suffer the same fate that I do._

_I'm afraid I don't know much about literature or proverbs, but there's a saying—how does it go? If you care about someone, you'll let them go, or something like that? I do care about Yuuta—you've no idea how much. I love him more than any family could in the world, but I don't know if I want to set him free. I will, of course. I won't confine him to the hell that the rest of us are trapped in, but I'll miss him so much. I can't help but wish he were staying. Not because misery loves company, or something cruel like that. I love him so dearly, and I'll miss him, miss him, miss him . . . _

_Is that selfish of me, Tezuka-sama? Do you hate me for that . . . Tezuka?_

_~Fuji Syusuke.

* * *

_

Sanada and Atobe walked to the mirror shop, Sanada grumbling something and Atobe ignoring him steadfastly. "Quit complaining, you plebian," the latter said. "Don't you want to find out what's wrong with Tezuka? If it's not a girl, then maybe he's involved in shady business dealing. It's better that we find out first, before the police, don't you think?"

"Maybe Tezuka has a sick cousin he's visiting," Sanada replied darkly. "It's not our right to pry into other people's businesses."

"Well, ore-sama is intrigued," Atobe snapped. "He's visiting a mirror shop. Oshitari is visiting the same mirror shop. They're both slacking off. No mirror shop can get to ore-sama, though." He said this proudly, and Sanada might have laughed, had he not been so pissed off.

"Look, we're here." Atobe examined the mirror shop with a critical eye. "What a shabby place."

"It doesn't look that suspicious," Sanada said weakly. "We should just go back. Oshitari actually _fainted _around here."

"Ore-sama is too strong to faint at the sight of a mirror shop," Atobe replied haughtily. "Though it doesn't say much for Oshitari's bravery. Nor yours, I must admit. What happened to immovable as the mountain and fierce as fire, hmm?"

He was as condescending as ever, and Sanada could only follow behind him. The building was immersed in shadows, and there was the faint sound of echoing, even though he was certain there were no people inside. "The shop's empty," he said, sighing. "It's always empty."

"There's a room, there." Atobe pointed to an empty room. "There's a table there, too." He squinted. "No, that room's not empty. I think I see someone."

"That's what Oshitari said," Sanada warned, groaning inwardly. "We'd best be going back."

"Nonsense. Ore-sama is getting to the bottom of this, and if you're too much of a coward to follow through with this, then ore-sama shall do it himself."

Sanada crossed his arms and followed him into the room. "I'm not carrying you home when you faint."

Atobe paid him no heed, instead crossing rapidly over to a table in the main room. "There's a letter here." He unfolded it.

_Fuji Syusuke:_

_The saying goes, If you love someone, then you should set him free. It's not selfish if you wish to keep him to yourself; we must all be selfish with the ones we love, for there's only one chance. Be happy for your brother. If I see him, I will take care of him for you. _

_I have said this before: I could never hate you. _

_Please recover from your depression. It's not good to grieve long. Spend what time you have left with your brother—Yuuta. I patiently await your return._

_~Tezuka Kunimitsu._

"He _does _have a girlfriend," Atobe exclaimed, placing the letter back on the table.

"Syusuke is a male's name," Sanada replied flatly. "Let's go; I don't like the feeling this shop gives. It's—dark, shady. We shouldn't be here without permission."

"_You have permission,_" a voice assured. Sanada whipped around to see a blue-haired male, putting a delicate hand to his mouth in laughter. He was stunningly beautiful, with eyes that were lake-blue, clear and glittering. He had a delicate frame, and his voice trickled like the brook. _"Pleased to meet you, Sanada Genichiroh."_

"Who are you?" Sanada demanded.

"_Guess." _The boy leaned against the wall (carefully avoiding the mirrors, Sanada noticed) and smiled. Sanada had to remind himself to breathe.

Atobe, however, didn't notice that his friend was talking to air—someone with curly, strawberry-blond hair had approached him and taken the letter. _"You shouldn't read other people's mail,"_ the boy chastised. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, surely—or, if he was, he had the most amazingly slow aging rate Atobe had ever seen.

"Are you Fuji Syusuke?" Atobe asked. Was this the boy who'd managed to woo Tezuka, who'd managed to capture Oshitari? (First of all, he hadn't realized that the two of them even swung that way.) It wouldn't have surprised him if this boy were the person who'd taken them both—he was startlingly adorable. Atobe did his best to shove the thought out of his mind. "What have you done with Tezuka and Oshitari?" But even as he spoke, he couldn't help but notice the way the boy's eyes shone, how soft his hair looked, how sweet his appearance was.

"_No,"_ the boy replied with alacrity. His eyes shone, and his lips parted in a happy, genuinely happy sort of smile. "_I'm Jiroh. Nice to meet you. Fuji's my friend. And Fuji wasn't the one who got to Oshitari; Gakuto did that. They look very cute together. Gakuto's been so sad lately, so I'm really happy that he's met Oshitari-kun! They're really good for each other, I think._" He was all wide eyed innocence, and Atobe had to remind himself to be angry.

"Well, tell them to give Oshitari and Tezuka back," Atobe spat.

Jiroh blinked. _"But they're wonderful company."_

Just then, Atobe and Sanada glanced at each other. "Who are you talking to?" they asked simultaneously. And again, in sync, they asked, "You can't see him?"

Atobe blinked a few times to clear his head, then grabbed Sanada by the arm. "Let's go; you were right. This place is strange." But something kept pulling him back.

_No, Ato-kun. You don't want to leave yet, do you?_

_Do you want to leave _me?

Atobe whipped around and stared at the empty room. It was wrapped in shadows again, and Atobe's eyes widened in trepidation. There was a sort of stagnation in the room, and at the same time, it felt as though the shadows were constantly moving, dancing around him. Yet it didn't feel—debased—at all. This should have served as prognostication, he realized, but he couldn't pull himself away. "Where did he . . .?"

It took almost all of Sanada's willpower to drag the two of them out of the room. They ran for blocks at a time, and ten minutes later stood outside of a popular café, a heavily populated district—safe and mainstream, away from—from—

"Do you think that's what Tezuka and Oshitari saw?" Atobe breathed.

Sanada shook his head. "Oshitari said he saw a redhead," Sanada said firmly. "Someone with a pageboy cut. That's—that's not who I saw." That was a gratuitous response; the person he'd seen had been beautiful, with wavy blue tresses, and while Sanada wasn't one for prose and histrionics, he did found no other way to describe the boy.

"Me neither," Atobe muttered. It must have been a joke, it couldn't have been real.

(_If it is real, it's dangerous._)

He ignored that thought.

"It's probably a trick of the eye. Let's just—pretend this never happened."

Sanada murmured his agreement, but exchanged a glance, and knew it—they had to go back, had to meet them again—they were—were—

* * *

"—entranced," Tezuka murmured, and leaned back. He was sitting on his bed, a textbook sitting abandoned by his side.

Entranced. He found no other way to describe this sentiment, however simplistic and exaggerated it was. Fuji frightened him, frankly. There was something happening to him, he knew; he was becoming increasingly dependent on the brunette. It was dangerous.

He'd doubted his eyes, at first—was it a hallucination of some sort? Had someone drugged him? A sustained dream?

But he'd learned at this point not to question his judgment. He'd seen Fuji, touched him, heard him.

He was real.

And it frightened him.

Not a wild sort of fear—more like a mild feeling of consternation. It had settled slowly, so slowly, that he hadn't realized it until now. He'd promised his life away to someone he'd known for a week. Someone beautiful, someone he was undeniably attracted to.

But regardless, someone he'd known for a week.

Someone who wasn't _human. _

It occurred to him he might have fallen in love, but he brushed that thought away everytime it came up.

He wouldn't get much studying done, he decided, and put away the books. He called a "good night" to his family and took off his glasses. The world was hazy, blurry. Tezuka turned off the light and did his best to sleep. It was dreamless, for a while. And then:

The thought nagged at him, pestered him. _Do you love him? _

Fuji, smiling sadly, his eyes glowing a beautiful blue.

_Do you love him?_

Fuji, standing above him, lips bared in a smile, eyes acid bright, skin ghostly pale, smile razor sharp.

_Do you love him?_

Fuji, pulling him forward, capturing his lips in a smile.

_Do you love him? _

Fuji, hands covered in blood, shadows trying to reach out to him. Fuji, laughing lightly, talking to other demons, beautiful and deathly. Fuji, watching as he became a shadow, just another shadow, reduced to following him in the succubae's universe, reaching but never quite touching, longing but never quite receiving—

_Do you—_

Tezuka tossed aside the bedsheets and sat up in cold sweat.


	6. Chapter 6

Slow update, sorry! Feyren got back from Canada a while ago, and I just got back from Vienna. Ironically, she's going to Germany soon, and I'm on my way to Canada. School starts soon, so we thought we'd update before things get hectic.

Feyren: ...how come you're always the one who gets to narrate the author's notes?

Rosie: Anyway! On with the story!

* * *

Monday mornings were always unwelcome, whether you were going to work or to school—but it'd never been _this _bad.

Well, this was certainly a predicament.

Shiruka-sensei looked at her four favorite students in confusion. Atobe Keigo, Oshitari Yuushi, Tezuka Kunimitsu, and Sanada Genichirou. Her four favorite students. (Well, four _of _her favorite students—Yagyuu Hiroshi was really quite a gem, himself. But Yagyuu wasn't in this class, and these four were.)

They were currently all spaced out, not paying attention to a word she was saying, and staring out the window.

Really, they usually were the most diligent students in the school. Not at all like _some _of her students—ungrateful brats…

But what could have made them so—preoccupied? A love triangle?

Shiruka-sensei frowned. No, not a love triangle. There were four of them, after all—and surely they knew better than to let a girl get in the way of their studies. They turned down confessions from girls every day. It couldn't be a love triangle.

…maybe a pentagon?

**

* * *

**

Gakuto had been on his mind all day, and Oshitari knew that even if he did decide to stay behind and practice violin, he'd end up getting distracted and wouldn't get anything done.

He'd practically fled out of the school as soon as classes ended, and was slightly short of breath upon arriving at the mirror shop. Nobody there.

Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. The shopkeeper was—well, there was something off about him. There was something off about the whole situation, actually, but that couldn't be helped.

He really was in trouble.

It was like an addiction, almost; those few minutes he spent talking to Gakuto were worth dying for. He was absolutely certain that he'd give his life up for him—someone he'd known for less than a week.

It was more than a little frightening.

Something like this had to be supernatural—and it was. Gakuto was a—a—

Oshitari had brought his violin with him. If he wasn't going to get any practice done at school, he might as well get it done here, where he had an audience.

"Yuushi-san!" The redhead appeared from nowhere and beamed. "Just got back from school? What's that big black case you have with you?"

"My violin," Oshitari replied.

Gakuto tilted his head to one side, and Oshitari found the gesture irresistibly adorable. "What's a violin?"

The question surprised him, but he supposed it was to be expected—he wasn't human. "I'll show you." With some flourish, he unzipped the case, revealing the instrument and bow. Gakuto watched in bemusement and awe as Oshitari put on the shoulder rest, lifted the bow, and played a perfect note on the A string.

"That's so pretty," Gakuto breathed. "A violin. That sounded like… like music. My friend described it to me once; music is supposed to be beautiful, isn't it?"

"I can play something for you," Oshitari offered, reveling in Gakuto's attention.

Gakuto's eyes widened. "Can you, really?"

"Of course." _No mistakes, _Oshitari told himself firmly. _I can't make any mistakes here. _"It's called Sicilienne, by von Paradis." It wasn't too difficult a piece, and he'd known it since middle school—but Gakuto's closed eyes and relaxed smile was really quite distracting.

It would've sounded much nicer if Oshitari had an accompanist with him; the piece called for either solo piano or violin and orchestra. But judging by Gakuto's admiring expression, it still didn't sound half bad. _Well, of course, _Oshitari thought, with some degree of pride. _My violin playing is second to none. Not even Atobe. _It was possibly the one thing he held over Atobe—and that was no small accomplishment.

"How was it?" Oshitari drawled, and Gakuto smiled up at him, a slow, secretive smile.

"Breathtaking," Gakuto told him. "I've never heard something so beautiful. Are there other forms of music, like this? Or other types of violins?"

"Other instruments, yes—other pieces, too," Oshitari agreed. "Like the flute, or the trumpet, the viola, the cello—I can play the cello. It looks like a larger version of the violin, and its sound is deeper. You can play Sicilienne on the cello, too. This piece was Austrian; I can play a Japanese piece for you, if you'd like."

Gakuto sat cross-legged on the floor, looking up at him. "Is it as pretty as this one?"

"It's a different type of pretty," Oshitari told him. "Called Akatombo—the Red Dragonfly, by Kosaku Yamada."

There was supposed to be an accompaniment for this piece, too, but he decided it'd do. After all, Gakuto looked properly entranced by it (and Oshitari never failed to notice just how beautiful the redhead looked when he was enjoying something), and that was all Oshitari needed.

He tried telling himself that it was a sin for someone not to know what music was, and that was why he was doing this—but that was the most ridiculous lie he'd ever heard. Playing music _for Gakuto _was why he was doing this—because seeing him like that, happy—it was strangely addicting.

_Yes, _he decided, drawing out one note after another, living for Gakuto's smile, _I could live the rest of my life like this. _

**

* * *

**

Tezuka waved a quick goodbye to Atobe and Sanada, and prepared to leave. Oshitari, as usual, had left—which was odd, as he usually stayed behind in the music rooms to practice. But he didn't think much of it.

Fuji's younger brother had vanished. He'd been banned from the mirror-universe (as he'd chosen to call it), and was presumably somewhere on Earth.

Tezuka had promised he'd keep an eye out for him—_short brown hair, _said Fuji, _a scar on his forehead, and determined grey eyes_—this young man named Fuji Yuuta. He was younger than Fuji himself, and Fuji only looked about eighteen. So chances were that this Yuuta was still in high school.

The walk to the mirror shop was short, and he walked in quietly. There was the sound of someone playing the violin, which was odd. As far as he knew, nobody else occupied the mirror room, and Fuji had never mentioned anything about playing an instrument. He brushed it off as a trick of the mind. As usual, the shopkeeper was missing, and Tezuka flung open the door to the mirror room without preamble. "Fuji?" he murmured.

"_Tezuka?_"

Tezuka jolted in surprise. That wasn't Fuji's voice—it was Oshitari's.

Sure enough, there stood the blunette, violin in hand, staring at him in astonishment. "Tezuka, it's you," he said slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you _doing here?" Tezuka asked.

Oshitari took a deep breath, then laughed sharply. "Probably the same thing you're doing here."

"Good afternoon, Tezuka," a familiar voice greeted, and as Tezuka peered into the dark, he saw the redhead with whom he'd spoken previously—Gakuto. "Nice to see you again." The redhead was all smiles, and Oshitari gave him a curious look.

"You, too?" Tezuka inquired.

"You can see him?" Oshitari countered, looking torn between surprise and confusion.

"Tezuka-sama."

Tezuka whipped around, and there stood Fuji, eyes hidden behind an amused smile. "Did you come to see me?" the brunette asked softly, and took a few steps closer. "Thank you for coming, Tezuka-sama. I'm sorry I've been so secluded the past few days." He looked down demurely, and out of the corner of his eye, Tezuka noted that Gakuto winced sympathetically. "It's just, with Yuuta gone…"

"We'll find him," Gakuto consoled from his spot on the floor. "Even if he's in Germany, or something."

_How? _Tezuka wondered, but refrained from saying it aloud. It'd only dampen Fuji's mood, and seeing him this depressed was—heartbreaking.

Then Fuji looked up, with a smile that was so obviously faked, and said, "Come, Tezuka—let Oshitari-san play his violin for Gaku; we'll go somewhere else."

He allowed Fuji to take him by the wrist and pull him deeper into the room—which he suddenly realized wasn't as small as he'd assumed it was. They must've walked for miles; there were thousands of doors lining the walls. Tezuka could see the end of the room, but it seemed to back away with every step he took forward. He glanced questioningly at Fuji, who smiled and said, "Oshitari-san is a very gifted musician, isn't he?"

The strains of music were fading away, and Fuji eventually stopped at a door. It looked unassuming, and identical to the doors they'd passed. Fuji pushed it open, and for a moment, Tezuka thought he saw something flicker.

Then they walked in.

It was… just another room.

"We won't disturb Gaku and his friend this way," Fuji explained, and sat down.

When did the chairs appear?

Fuji smiled at him, and Tezuka had to glance away, for fear of losing his composure. "Do you play an instrument, too?" Fuji inquired, and remorsefully added, "I had a friend who'd found his soul mate. Our keeper allowed him to go outside with his lover for twelve hours, and only twelve hours. They attended a concert, with many different types of music—he came back and told me about it. It was beautiful, he said—and he hummed one of the tunes for me."

"Where's your friend, now?" Tezuka asked.

His smile faltered. "He doesn't exist anymore," Fuji replied briefly. "Demons can't die. His lover backed out at the last minute, and without him, my friend was trapped. He—ceased existing, from loneliness."

Fuji didn't look like the type to cry, but Tezuka was still afraid to touch him, for fear of shattering him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"We're not supposed to believe in love, you know," Fuji continued. "Our keeper forbids it."

This was the second time Fuji had mentioned his "keeper." Who was that?

"Should I believe in it, Tezuka-sama?" He leaned forward, and in the millisecond it took for Tezuka to blink, Fuji had led him back through the door, back to the main room. Oshitari stood there, alone. "Gakuto and I should be going. May I see you tomorrow?"

Tezuka nodded, ever laconic, and just like that, Fuji was gone.

**

* * *

**

"That was a nice lie you told," Marui said softly. "It was pretty romantic."

Fuji sighed. "What else could I say?"

"The truth wouldn't be very pretty," Marui agreed. They both sat within the depths of the mirror, watching as Gakuto and Shishido started another argument. "To say that he lost the heart to continue seducing victims, and faded from malnourishment. If you can call it that."

Fade—that was the term they used. Demons couldn't die, if they never lived to begin with. Demons faded. They grew weaker and weaker (unless they secured more victims), until they became a wisp. And the wisp eventually faded to be—nothing. It was probably more painful than death. It wasn't a befitting fate for his friend—who'd been so lively, so happy.

"He fell in love," Fuji pointed out. "He faded from heartbreak. It's a pity."

"I wonder why his lover stopped coming."

"What was his name, again?"

"Oishi," Marui said, after a moment of pause. "I think it was Oishi Shuichiro, or something. You know, the guy with the weird bangs?"

"Ah," Fuji agreed. "It's a pity. They made a nice couple."

"He shouldn't have gotten attached to him," Marui criticized. "It's the number one rule. You're never supposed to get attached to the humans. Emotional attachments are—suicide."

"He fell in love," Fuji repeated. "It was too late, by the time he noticed it."

"Maybe that guy really was his soul mate," Marui commented, laughing dryly. "Sucks for them both, doesn't it?" At Fuji's warning glance, he held up both hands and said sheepishly, "Sorry, sorry. You were pretty good friends with him, weren't you? I was too, you know. Redheads unite."

"He didn't deserve to die. They could've lived together—Oishi could've saved him."

"I really wonder why Oishi stopped coming."

"I'm pretty sure he'd already told Oishi about the whole succubus thing by then," Marui added. "Oishi knew he could save him. Maybe _that _was why he stopped coming."

"Oishi wasn't that type," Fuji protested.

Marui snorted. "You never know for sure. Facades, and all that. But damn it (and that's some threat, coming from a demon), if I ever see Oishi, I'm going to murder him." And what was scary—or, to two demons, not scary at all—was that Marui sincerely meant it.

A loud shout interrupted them, and Marui got up with a sigh. "Gaku and Shishido are arguing again," he said with an eye-roll. "Niou's not really helping the situation any, is he? I'd better go help." He glanced back at Fuji, and added, "Don't think about it, Fuji. It's too late, now. And maybe we should be happy for him—he's out of it. We're not."

"I suppose you're right," Fuji agreed, and followed him to help.

But…

Kikumaru Eiji. He really didn't deserve to fade.

**

* * *

**

Tezuka and Oshitari walked home in silence. It was odd, knowing that Oshitari had met somebody at the mirror shop, too. With Gakuto, no less—Fuji's friend.

"I feel like there's something off about the situation," Oshitari mused, echoing his thoughts from earlier. "Gakuto is—well, that we both found this mirror shop at the same time—"

"You followed me," Tezuka corrected, "with Sanada. And neither of you were very quiet about it. You let your guard down."

Oshitari snorted. "You let _your _guard down, if you let us follow you." He paused. "But you know, Sanada and Atobe haven't been very attentive lately, either…" He took on a look of both horror and amusement. "Do you think they saw people, too?"

"Wraiths," Tezuka said. "Not people."

"_Demons,_" Oshitari said stubbornly. "Not wraiths. It's frightening, isn't it?"

"Has Gakuto told you about the—"

"—soulmate thing? Yeah," Oshitari said. "I wonder what would happen if I just… stopped coming. What would happen to him?"

Tezuka stiffened. "That's not an option," he said sharply. "Would you be able to stop coming?"

"Definitely not," Oshitari admitted. "But for the sake of debate—what do you think would happen?"

Tezuka thought back to what Fuji had said, the death—well, not death—of his friend. He didn't know how to describe it, though; how could one cease to exist, if not by death? "He'd probably… fade from loneliness," he said. 'Fade' was, after all, something that could be used in similarity to death. It seemed appropriate, befitting. He'd have to ask Fuji the proper terms, later.

Oshitari pondered that for a moment, and, not paying attention to where he was going, promptly collided with someone on the street.

"Oh, sorry," he said, and backed away. The young man he'd bumped into had short brown hair, and a scar on his forehead. His eyes were grey, but seemed awfully sad. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," the young man mumbled, and turned away to leave.

Then Tezuka called out, "Wait. Is your name Fuji Yuuta?"

Oshitari looked at him in surprise. "Who?"

The brunette turned around and stared at Tezuka in equal surprise. "Yes, how did you know?"

Tezuka seemed to hesitate for a moment, and Oshitari was growing more confused by the minute. "Do you have an older brother?"

The sadness in Yuuta's eyes deepened, and he said, "I used to."

Oshitari frowned. "Did he die?" he asked gently. "My sympathies."

"Is his name Fuji Syusuke?" Tezuka asked, relentless.

Oshitari gave him an annoyed glare. "You're not usually this talkative; stop pestering him about his dead brother," he whispered. "How unsympathetic can you get?"

Yuuta's eyes widened, and he rushed forward, grabbing Tezuka by the shoulders and practically shaking the life out of him. Oshitari shouted in surprise, and was about to pull Yuuta away from his friend, when he heard Yuuta demand, "Do you know him? Are you friends with him? How do you know him? Please, you've got to help him get out—if only for a day, help him leave—I've got to see him, I need him to know I'm okay—_please, _sir—"

"Get out?" Oshitari repeated. "Is he—Tezuka, is he the—"

"The…" Tezuka trailed off, unwilling to degrade Fuji with a term like 'succubus.' "The one I've been seeing."


End file.
